When you can't see the bluebells 

There's cleary something wrong

Possibly something terribly wrong

If you miss the bluebells 

Your life has passed you by

My favourite flower, my favourite time

Normally waited for, longed for, at winters end

This year only spotted as they hung their heads towards their demise 

That too, almost missed

Why so, too much on, tunnelled vision on surviving just each day

Not selfish preoccupation, just too little self left

Juggling loved ones life and health

Finally seen, couldn't really miss

As I recharged in verdant glorious Wales

First seen from a distance

What over there is all that shimmering blue

And over there and over there

Getting closer it was clear to see

Bluebells ringing in the mottled sun

So not missed, only nearly missed

At their and springs last days



bluebellsloved onesspringWales

◄ little Big man

Margaret, Mags or Margie ►


Paul kirkby

Sat 8th Jul 2017 10:32

Yes Ian I completely agree about Bluebells, we have seen them twice earlier this year both on chalk downs which we also love. Reading you poems-- (now I can admit to seeing them as Ruth earlier was not sure she should have shared) is very eye opening as i see a side of you perhaps I don't see in our occasional meetings.

I was interested because I have a book in me I am going to write one day.

I laughed a bout Come on Eileen - not really her indeed.

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Stu Buck

Sun 21st May 2017 21:35

a fine sentiment indeed. something hopelessly sad about seeing nature in general at its lowest point, as noted here with the bluebells and their hanging heads. very much enjoyed.

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